


VGA

by rara_avis



Series: Interrupt Request AU (IRQ) [2]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Android Genitalia, Dirty Talk, M/M, Mirror Sex, Post-Canon, Psuedo-Exhibitionism, Self-Lubrication, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-29
Updated: 2018-09-29
Packaged: 2019-07-17 11:31:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16094804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rara_avis/pseuds/rara_avis
Summary: You know what else an interrogation room's two-way mirror is good for?





	VGA

**Author's Note:**

> Hank's POV is always good for some filthy talk. This is roughly the same universe as [IRQ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16021058/chapters/37388756).
> 
> A DBH Kinkmeme Prompt Fill!
> 
>  
> 
> **This work was originally posted under another username.**

Hank bets that Connor, programmed to being such a hardass about work, has a little corner of his programming dedicated to stress relief. In whatever form. He's seen him rant and pace, fretting about the connections between cases. Hank’s betting Connor will feel much better after getting fucked in a public use room while people are milling around outside, going about their business.

Hank _loves_  winning on a bet.

The interrogation rooms aren't very comfortable, but they're a good place for a lay if you're going to play a kind of sex-in-the-workplace lottery, for two reasons: you get the sensation that you might be caught at any moment and you also get a big, fancy mirror to see yourself and your fuckbuddy in. Hank's aware he's got the place on lockdown -- mostly -- but Connor isn't. He's talking about it a little as Hank starts to undo Connor's pants.

"You’re certain that no one's going to --" Connor starts, and stops as Hank gets to his shirt stays. "-- no one's going to come in here during -- this."

"Well, I mean," Hank says, smoothing a hand down Connor's front, playing his fingers along the grooves of Connor's groin, "I can explain it away, right? I'm good at that."

"Androids are now considered employees, Hank," Connor says, doing that TV Nerd-in-Highschool thing where he pretends he doesn't _want_ to get in trouble, but he actually _really_ does, "and we'll both likely be more than simply reprimanded --"

"Oh, nooo," Hank drawls, tugging at Connor's tie, still toying with all the nice little networks of sensors and veins under the casing between Connor's legs. "Not a reprimand. I've never had one of those."

" _Lieutenant_ ," Connor says, in his charming, condescending voice, which is now being interrupted by his little skipping-record stutter.

"You don’t think I’ve thought ahead?” Hank asks, innocently, while he pushes Connor's pants and briefs to his knees. "I'll just say this is special maintenance that only I can do for my partner."

Connor leans forward on the interrogation table, bracing his arms, still getting ready despite his complaints. "I'm not sure that excuse will have the desired outcome --"

”What, is that a probability assessment?”

“It’s a bullshit assessment, Lieutenant.”

"We can make up anything at this point," Hank says, leaning in to bite Connor's ear. He's got his cock out, now, stroking it to get it fully hard. "They'll believe us."

"Hank," Connor warns, and Hank figures he's got to start a new little thought subroutine in Connor's head. So he runs his hands down Connor's neck and lifts his chin to the two-way mirror.

"Why don't you look at yourself in that, baby?" Hank says. "Look how nice you look."

Connor is quiet as he does what he's told, then makes one of his horny little machine noises. He's looking studiously at himself, at how his shirt's open and his tie's undone, his jacket's tossed over the other side of the table. And Hank behind him, completely clothed, with his shoulder working on his dick to get it ready.

"Well?" Hank asks, stroking Connor's throat. "What do you see?"

"I-I see," Connor says, his voice going full robot stutter, “you’re — touching — yourself ."

"You know what I'm doing next?" Hank asks, taking his hand from his cock. "Can you guess?"

"No, Hank,” Connor says, lying.

"Well — damn, Connor, you're shaking,” Hank nudges him to look again. "Look at your arms, kid. Is that part of your fucking protocol?"

He's still got his hand holding Connor's head up, gentle but firm. His other goes from the small of Connor's back to between his asscheeks.

"Want another guess for what I'm up to?" Hank asks.

"You're," Connor makes a click like he's swallowing. "You're going to see how ready I am."

"You can say 'wet'," Hank says, pushing a finger just at the entrance of Connor's rear port, "because that's what you are, Connor. Wet for me."

There's that momentary surge of pride when he feels Connor up down here, how the android's already slicked up inside because of some overheating protocol. It's also excellent lube, and they haven't yet needed anything else but this, because Connor's generally hot for Hank the first minute they start necking. His insides feel like nothing Hank's ever had the pleasure to touch before Connor, soft and synthetic but clearly living. And also generously saturated with Connor's _fuck-me-Hank_ juices.

Connor pants obviously now. His eyelids start to droop and Hank taps is throat. "Ah-ah," he says. "Watch yourself, Connor."

They're a little far away for Hank to see, but Connor's got that special android sight. Hank shudders thinking about the kid pulling up a task list of what to do while Hank fingers him. The hell would that display look like?

"H-Hank," Connor stutters.

"Yeah?" Hank asks. "What is it?"

"G-get, get us closer to the mirror."

Another little swallow-click. Hank kisses the back of Connor's jaw. "Yeah, I gotcha," he says.

Hank has to move away. It's actually pretty difficult to walk with a chub and his jeans pulled down past his ass, but Hank's not a quitter. He improvises. He pulls up a chair and props its back against the table, because they're going to need something that's bolted to the ground.

"Come here, Connor," he says. "See if you like this better."

Connor's posture locks up. He walks over stiffly. Not just because he's an android, but because his legs are further impeded with all his little garter-things in disarray. He's got this sort of haughty dignity to him still, which Hank finds sexy as hell.

"First," Hank says, "I want you to look at yourself before you go over too far."

Connor tilts his head, his brow creasing. It's a question of, specificity, please?

"I need you to look down your thigh," Hank says, gesturing. "See that?"

Connor's knees bend just a little. The slick's easy to see in the harsh lights of the room, even though Hank's kept half of them off for both their vision’s sake. He adjusts his legs just enough.

"You find anything?" Hank says.

"It's down both thighs," Connor murmurs. He's panting a little harder now, his eyes all blown out.

"Want to come here and let me take care of that?" Hank asks him, beckoning.

"Yes."

Hank tries to catch his breath. He wants to show Connor off, but there's logistics. The chairs are uncomfortable as hell, though they’ve got two of them. He drags one over and pulls it in front of him, the back of the chair facing Hank's front.

Connor's frowning now.

"You're complicating access, Lieutenant," he says.

"I love it when you talk dirty," Hank grins. "No, I want you to see what you look like to me. C'mon. We can worry about access later."

Sometimes he figures Connor wishes Hank was a younger man, because then Hank would have _way_ less patience and less flare for pageantry. He can see that written all over his blue-blushing robot face. Connor's a good sport, and he _really_ likes Hank being bossy and possessive, so he sits down on the chair, back to Hank.

They can see themselves at this angle. Still a little awkward. But Hank's got access to Connor now in a different way. He slides a hand over Connor's shoulder and Hank's got a new appreciation for their size disparity. The height's not so drastic, but Connor's so slim. Hank's hand looks massive as it passes over Connor's chest and into his shirt, finding one of the android's synthetic nipples.

"First order of business," Hank murmurs, "you need to be spread out. Get your pants on one leg, baby. Or out of them completely."

Connor squirms. That's always a sure sign Hank's doing something right. It's involuntary and doesn't have Connor's usual facade of care to it. He does what he's told, and raises his chin when the task's complete. Next? his posture says.

"Sit tight," Hank says. He reaches over the side of the other chair to lift Connor's leg at the knee. Connor braces the rest of himself on the floor, making a little noise of surprise.

"Don't worry, I'll fuck you soon enough," Hank says. "But look at that. Connor. Look at yourself."

Connor stills. He's got a good view of his groin now, the way it curves down towards his ass, the end port of his filtration system. He may not have been made for sex in any sort of way, but humans had found a way to use some of their nature-given bits for more than their intended use. It's only fair that androids get the same courtesy.

The gel-like skin non-domestic models have generally goes white with heat, dispelling the pigment. Right now Connor's white casing shows on his thighs and groin. With each beat of his pump the small pale blue pucker of his asshole twitches. Hank tilts him slightly to let him see the shine of his slick.

"Look at that, Connor," Hank whispers in Connor's ear. "Look how ready you are for me."

"Alternatively," Connor says, gritting his teeth, "how _impatient_ I am."

Hank chuckles and slides his hand down Connor's lifted leg; Connor doesn't have to be told to keep his leg up, and he's not going to get tired. Which is great. Because he's about to be tested. Hank toys with Connor's entrance, and Connor's proud little face lifts. He's gone kind of blue on his chest, now, and white around his regulator.

" _C'mon_ , what, why're you mad now?" Hank says.

"You're still not --" Connor sucks in a breath as Hank pushes a finger in him. It's a nice scene. His whole body jolts upwards. He's tight but there's not the same delicateness of a human's body, and there's a time for delicate and there's a time for fucking your android partner on the taxpayer's dollar and you need to get your reactions sooner than later. _Worth every penny,_ Hank thinks. _They'd thank me._

"Oh, that's nice. Want two?" Hank's using his middle finger first, so he's got the pick of the draw when Connor gives him the okay. Which he does with this curt little nod.

"Now I want you to see this," Hank says. "Watch. How nice you stretch for me."

"Y-yes, Lieutenant."

Hank kisses Connor's ear, maintaining eye contact the whole damn time as he slides his forefinger in. Connor's eyes do their self-diagnosis roll, jaw jerking slightly.

"H- _Ha-ank_ ," Connor says, trying to both keep his posture and his composure, but he can only do one of those things, and he chooses not to fall off the chair.

"Yeah, sweetheart," Hank says, pushing both fingers now, pumping. "Look how slick that is, now. Look at that. Practically soaking me, here."

Connor's teeth chatter a little, which is a neat little android quirk like shuddering or shivering. He does that, too, yeah, but this is the second stage of making Hank's boy go helpless on him.

Hank whispers, "What if someone walked in there right now? We'd have no idea, baby. What if someone saw me fingering you?"

Connor's noises are so genuine and wanton whatever form they come out of him. This is a human one, a moan that threatens to be way louder than it needs to be. Connor shoves his hand over his mouth and it's clear he's straining to keep his eyes open.

"I wonder what they'd do," Hank says. "Would they stop and leave to tattle on us? Or maybe they'd stay for the show? Pretty thing like you, they'd be so lucky."

Connor shuts his eyes with a hiccup, and he's going to have his first orgasm any moment now. Hank works his wrist a little faster, making sure now he's going to his knuckles.

"You gotta cum for me baby?" Hank asks. "You gonna make it so easy to put my dick in you?"

Connor's eyes open wide for orgasm number one. His legs jitter and he's trembling now, jerking into Hank's hand. The clench of his insides is firm and silky, and Connor grinds down on Hank's fingers just a little to get more sensation. Whatever it does to his system it's enough to cause him to sag like he's just gone on standby. Hank takes that time to gently nudge him around, having to puppet him just a little to get that chair to the side for the kid to prop a leg on.

"Which way do you wanna sit?" Hank asks. "You can look over your shoulder, or you can stare straight at yourself when I fuck you."

"Looking at the mirror," Connor rasps, his husky voice scraping a bit on the dangerous side.

"Good choice," Hank says, patting his thigh.

Hank's enjoyed the show so far, of course, but no stimulus would make anyone a little flag. Connor works Hank's cock right back to full hardness within moments.

"You never stretch me enough," Connor says, nuzzling Hank's temple as he turns to lower himself down on Hank's lap. "When this is in me it's always just -- a little too much. I like it."

The compliment makes Hank as smug as it makes him crazy.

Connor's ass lowers smoothly over Hank's cock. He's pulled the foreskin back and just sinking down with this serene slowness. He hums low in his chest, one of his horny metallic noises. Hank braces his own legs as best he can to make sure Connor's got plenty of room to do his work.

"Watch that," Hank whispers, rubbing Connor's stomach. "Make sure you can see us."

Connor looks in the mirror. Most of the action is obscured by him leaning forward. He stands up as best he can, adjusting so he can see Hank enter him. When he gets an angle he likes, he starts his work again.

" _Fuck_ ," Hank says, showing a little of his slowly slipping control.

Connor's sunk down all the way, now. Hank puts his hands to keep Connor upright. He rolls his hips just a little to jostle himself inside Connor's body. Connor locks up a little, tightening Hank's cock with an involuntary clench.

"Fuck yourself down on me," Hank says.

"Y-yes, Lieutenant."

Connor complies. He loves to comply. He slowly slides up, gasping softly as he sees Hank's cock reappear, hot and hard, red against all that white plating. He slides down and lifts a hand to capture his moan. He starts a rhythm, slow at first, his legs not the kind to tire so he'd be able to ride Hank's cock indefinitely. If Hank wasn't so sure they'd both pass out before then.

The android starts to lose his composure. Just enough. He's bouncing slightly now, watching all his body light up beneath what few articles of clothing he's still wearing. His million-dollar tongue peeks out of his mouth as he tries to regulate all that heat. He clenches behind him at Hank's sides. The noises between them get indecent quickly.

"Ssh, listen to that, baby, Connor, listen," Hank whispers, lapping down Connor's neck. "How fucking wet you are, fuck. Look at how it's just all over me. It's all over my balls. All over the seat. We're gonna have to clean up real nice, huh? Maybe I should cum in you?"

Connor's little whine of sexual frustration is golden.

"What's that? You want me to cum in you?" Hank asks. "I wonder what our audience will think. Me getting your insides dirty with my cum."

"I d-don't," Connor robot-stutters with just that edge of attitude, lip curled, "c-care-- wh- what--"

"You care," Hank says through grit teeth, jerking his hips now, the chairs and tables making some pretty damning squeaky noises, "you care because you want to show us off, huh? You want to make people jealous of me. Of how hot you are just for me."

"Haaank," Connor whines, which is a recent trick he's just learned. It's the kind of whine that gets Hank to step to whatever Connor wants outside the bedroom. And inside, too.

"Hank what."

"Hank," Connor says, arm behind him now to brace on Hank's shoulder, his voice skipping but firm, " _Cum in me._ "

Hank bites back a roar of pride in Connor's shoulder, holding him to him, jerking his hips with a desperation he's just allowed himself allowed to feel. Connor's got all his android hics and tics going, grasping at Hank's hands and arms while he loses control of his body.

He's close to the end when Connor whispers, " _Hank, look at me_ ," and Hank's eyes open and he cums almost the instant he gets an eyeful in the mirror.

Connor, completely fucked out on his dick. Wet and stretched. System overheated enough that what isn't his blue-blushed skin is powder-white. His jaw open and a little thread of his saline-saliva trickling down his chin, his eyes blown out black to show his fancy optical sensors behind.

Hank snarls into Connor's shoulder and shoots up into him, jostling and jerking his boy around, pounding into him without a moment's hesitation. Connor likes it rough. Hank likes to give rough. It's a no-contest moment when this handling takes Connor over again and he's also trying not to make a big, wild noise. Hank's still twitching inside Connor while Connor rides out his jerking, inhuman orgasm, which has become so unbelievably hot that Hank wishes he had another to give Connor right away.

They are sat together uncomfortably, now. Connor unhooks his leg and rolls his hips like an expert. The lack of pain means he can just clench and do what he wants after sex, and this means wiggling off Hank's lap in the most tantalizing way possible. He walks forward towards the mirror while Hank catches his breath.

Connor turns and, rather deliberately, for himself, not for Hank, spreads his cheeks so he can look at his hole. His jaw grinds in a display of pleasure and pride. He adjusts his legs and watches a little of Hank spill out of him when he gently tugs his hole to the side.

"We can get one of these for the bedroom, maybe," Connor says, looking at Hank. He's already fucking fixing his tie on, but it's because that's just part of his boot-up process. "Put it on the closet door."

"Sounds like a fine plan to me," Hank says, grinning through slit eyes. "C'mere, baby, let me kiss you."

This is Connor's favorite thing, probably more than sex. He leans over Hank, hands buttoning his own shirt, and Hank tugs him down for a somewhat sloppy but extremely satisfying kiss. Connor likes a lot to taste. In the middle of it all, Connor ends up tidying _Hank's_ shirt. And Hank lets him do it because he'd rather not have some uneven buttons stumbling out into the bullpen again.

"This was --" Connor says, stepping back to begin to slide up his briefs, "-- a gratifying new experience, thank you, Lieutenant."

"Well, there's lots of ways you're still new to the world," Hank says, standing up on wobbly legs to tug up his jeans while Connor fixes his shirt stays. "Need to teach you what I know, right?"

"I'm a quick study," Connor says, tilting his head. He squints at Hank. "You knew no one could get into the room on the other side... right?"

"Well," Hank says, rubbing the back of his hand, "there's always a possibility."

The speaker comes on audibly in the room, as if someone's pressed the intercom.

Hank's eyes go wide, and he almost shouts something stupid -- until he seems Connor grinning with his gums showing and huffing. Which is his version of laughing uproariously.

"Wireless remote controls are so _handy_ , Lieutenant," he says.

"Let's get back to work, you little prick," Hank says, tamping down his instant panic to grab Connor in a headlock, dragging him close.

"First, I might need to stop by the locker room.," Connor says, grabbing his jacket from the peg by the wall. He pulls it on. It's almost the same as the one he'd had before the revolution, but it no longer bears the electric blue triangle or band, but instead, the DPD emblem and his title of SPECIALIST. Hank's proud of that, too, a bone-deep adoration and satisfaction for his boy being acknowledged. "I do like the idea of people finding out about our sexual practices, as unprofessional as that might be. I think a quick rinse and a new uniform change will be better for me in the long run."

"Yeah," Hank says, putting his palm on the door. "And I'm not looking forward to human-android departmental fraternization rules in the future."

"I don't know if you've noticed yet," Connor says, bumping Hank deliberately with his elbow as they leave. "But you and I are generally tasked with making these rules ourselves."

"Guess that's so," Hank says, putting his hand lightly on Connor's back. "Just gotta think ahead. That's a detective's job."

"Then you must know that the only task you've got ahead of you _now_ ," Connor says, eyes slit in his bossy way, and Hank can't help but grin with pride at how much his boy's grown into a terror, "is getting that mirror for the house. We do need to continue to field test that new maintenance routine you've developed."


End file.
